The Zygan Emprise: Renegade Paladins and Abyssal Redemption (61 page)

* * *

Home

We used our Zygan Ergals to lev John back to
the cave, where we did a last cleanup to erase any remnants of our
visit. Ergaling a polished cedar casket, I levved John into his
silk lined bed, closing and locking the lid and laying a kiss on
the smooth wood.

We would first have to stop in and update Ev
at Earth Core, but I was eager to take John back to Maryland and
into the arms of our family. Spud said nothing about his brother,
shrugging when I asked if he would return to England—or France.

Our arrival in Earth Core Reception was low
key. I’d micro’ed the casket and was carrying it in my jeans
pocket. I had no desire to report on my adventures to Fydra who
staffed Reception with a bloodhound’s curiosity.

Ev welcomed us both warmly. Because we’d time
looped, only a few days had passed for Ev since we’d set off for
Zyga and my futile meeting with Cirra Stratum, and he was eager for
a debrief. Those few days had been pretty uneventful, Ev insisted,
as he caught me peering around the Core station. No, no subtle
changes. Nothing to indicate that Ev’s world had temporarily
disappeared.

“Before I forget, Rush, regards from the Serj
ambassador,” he began, “we had a little conference on Io yesterday
about setting them up to do nuclear meltdown cleanup.” He snorted,
“All that free energy, you think they’d give us a break on their
price.”

“Ah,” was all I could muster.

“So did you find John? Is he okay?” Ev
swallowed a bite of the “everything” pizza slice he was trying to
balance on his pudgy fingers.

I stood frozen, unable to answer.

Seeing my discomfort, Spud interjected, “In
the end, John was successful in finding his Holy Grail. I wager he
will have much to tell us on the day we join him in Level 3.”

A flash of sadness crossed Ev’s face. “Oh.
I’m so sorry. I was kind of hoping that I’d see him again, you
know.”

“Perhaps some of us will,” said Spud, inching
in the direction of the library. “Now if you’ll excuse me a moment.
I need to complete some research.”

“And I’ll just, uh, go make my report.” I
nodded towards the conference room. I didn’t know how long I could
hold it together. The last thing I wanted was a long conversation
with Ev. Catching the wounded look in his eyes, I softened and took
his hand in mine. “I just want you to know how grateful we are for
everything you did to help us.”

Ev smiled and cleared his throat. “You and
Spud.”

I turned back from before reaching the
conference room door. “Me and John.”

* * *

Earth Core Station—present day

Once Ev had returned to his Zygint business,
I gave myself a time-out in the “water closet” where I had first
launched my quest for Yeshua’s Golden Fleece. After drying my tears
on a wad of paper towels, I glanced at myself in the mirror. Red
eyes, red nose, ruddy cheeks, swollen lips. Thinner than even
Hollywood standards. The last time I’d visited this bathroom, I’d
been a crusader, set to sail the seven seas to rescue my brother.
In the end, with all my good intentions, I had only managed to lead
him to his death. I heard myself snort a chuckle. My confidence, my
hubris, had blessed me with a worse punishment than even the Omega
Archon’s Hell. My brother was gone for good, and, without question,
I would spend a millennium in Hell to bring him back.

An hour had passed by the time my features
were passable enough to not give my sorrow away. I snuck past Ev at
his consoles and met up with Spud in the library. “Checking the
timeline?” I asked, seeing Spud’s aquiline nose buried in a row of
holos.

“Yes. To my surprise, it seems quite
intact.”

I nodded and took a seat next to him. “Good.
I haven’t noticed anything different around here either.”

On the screens before us were several ornate
oil paintings dating from the 1600’s to the modern era of a man who
clearly resembled the Yeshua we had known. I pointed at one
attributed to an artist named Coypel which had a resurrected
“Yeshua” floating above images of joyous acolytes and fearful
legionnaires. Around his waist and hips, and extending over one
arm—was that the Somalderis?

“I believe so,” Spud concurred, “though the
painter didn’t render it quite as lush or golden as it truly
was.”

Always the critic. “I suppose.” I didn’t want
to ask the next question. “Did you happen to check on my
family?”

“Satellite images show your farm in Maryland
is populated by a rowdy cohort of children and adults. You shall be
returning home soon enough—I did not need to invade their privacy
as well.”

I couldn’t help but smile. More seriously:
“Your brother okay?”

Spud hesitated. “’Okay’ is not a word in his
vocabulary, but yes, Ian is alive.”

“I’m glad.” I stood up and patted him on the
back. “Thanks, partner. Uh,” I paused, “thanks for helping when I
needed you.”

He didn’t turn to face me but I did hear a
chuckle. “You, Rush, are as exceptional an antidote to boredom as
the universe has provided me to date. Despite the palpable risks, I
have never yet been able to resist injecting you into my life.”

“Oh-kay,” I admitted, allowing myself another
smile. “I guess I’ll accept that.”

I sat in front of another holo, my fingers
pulling up the assignment schedule for Earth Core, and searched
vainly for our names.

“I expect Ev cleared us for a few weeks
before we left, just in case. Our next shift for Zygint is not
until July,” said Spud.

Wow. Two months off. A real, and, after what
we’d been through, not unwelcome respite. “Then I’ll see you at
SingularityCon?” The Las Vegas sci-fi convention was only three
weeks away, and we were both slated to staff the
Bulwark
booth and do publicity for the upcoming Season 2 of our show.

“Indeed you will,” Spud waved, adding, “if I
have not perished first from the lull and ennui.”

I could see him smiling in the holo screen’s
reflection. “Good luck on your finals, dude,” I said, as, setting
my Ergal for Maryland, I X-fanned.

Chapter 29

Home is Where the Heart Breaks

Maryland—present day

The sun had just set on the East Coast by the
time I’d M-fanned on our farm. The gate behind me was locked for
the night, and I could only spot a few lights on in the house.

I’d mega’d John’s casket and let it rest in
the evening’s shadow on the grass behind me. What now seemed like
an eternity ago, I’d run off in the middle of dinner and left my
family in the lurch—better they see just me first and give me time
to start explaining.

Stepping up onto the porch, I hit the
doorbell. Bobby opened the door on the third ring.

“Ooh, you’re in trouble,” he teased with a
broad grin.

When I didn’t return his serve, his grin
disappeared. “What happened?” he asked with genuine concern.

I still couldn’t answer. I just gave him a
big hug and tried my hardest not to cry.

“Shiloh, what in the world?” Connie appeared
behind Bobby in the hallway, her brow knitted by a worried
frown.

I pulled back from my brother and reached a
trembling arm to clasp my sister’s. “Everything you could imagine.”
Blinking the fog from my eyes, I noted the house seemed dark. “Just
you two?”

Connie nodded. “Billy and Andi are spending a
week in the UK with Blair, and Kris is in Las Vegas with that
musician. George should be back any minute. I’m helping him out
until Tom returns tomorrow.” She paused to catch her breath. “I
wish—I wish you’d told us you were leaving.” A sigh. “Anyway, come
in and sit down.”

I didn’t move. “I can’t, uh” I turned to
point outside the door into the night.

George stood filling the doorway, his arms
clinging to the jamb, his face ashen.

“Oh, my God,” were the only words Connie
could muster.

* * *

I had to be very careful what I revealed,
even to Connie and George. John had implied they knew something
about our reality, but my own experience didn’t agree. When John
had disappeared three years before, George and the others had
seemed awfully convinced he had really run off and joined the US
Army, as he’d claimed. My own absences for Zygint, those not
covered by time loops, had been explained away by my nascent acting
career. The work I was getting in Hollywood had allowed me to live
3000 miles from DC on my own in L.A. Better that my family didn’t
find out the truth about the Zygan-Federation-behind-the-curtain.
Or about John.

Truth be told, I didn’t know the truth myself
any more. I hoped desperately that John’s faith in Level 3 would be
rewarded, and that he would be alive, whatever that meant in
heaven, and sponging up the answers he sought in the world beyond.
The idea that he might have returned to the hell of nothingness was
one I rejected every time it knocked at my conscience. That truth
would be more than I could bear.

The memorial service was set for the day
after tomorrow, allowing enough time for the whole family to fly
back home. In the cave, John had asked me if I would arrange
cremation and scatter his ashes into the wind at the base of
Sugarloaf Mountain in his beloved Appalachian Range. Praying that
I’d never really lose him, I had promised--with my fingers
crossed.

So Connie took care of all the preparations.
She always does. In a couple of days, once everyone had returned,
we would gather near the Rappahanock River and hike along the path
towards our favorite hill, stopping every mile or so to share a
memory of John’s full, short, life. When we reached the caverns,
we’d let Icarus soar, and watch the breeze lift John back into the
sky.

* * *

George was nursing a cup of tea in the
darkness of our library, a black silhouette in the large armchair
Grandpa Alexander had once occupied. Grateful that the lack of
light would be a veil for my tears, I Ergaled myself a cup of hot
chocolate and sat down on the sofa next to him.

He finally spoke. “I didn’t ask you to tell
us the whole story. Just why he never bothered to call.”

“Come on, George. I told you what I could.
Army Special Ops swore him to secrecy.” My sip burned my burning
tongue. “He did say how much he loved you.”

“I’m sure,” George snorted. Sighing, he
added, “Something happened a few years ago, Shiloh. After that,
John became all about John.”

George shook his head. “I confess I was
hoping for the return of the older brother I’d grown up with. He
did love us. Back then.”

I pursed my lips. Hesitated. Didn’t say “and
now, more than you know”. Instead, I took a deep breath and changed
the subject, sticking my big toe in the water. “Hey, Bro. You
remember our parents?”

George looked at me, surprised. “Of course. I
was almost ten when the accident hap--why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I don’t.”

“Well, you were pretty little when they
passed.”

“What was my mother’s name?” A tremor in my
voice.

George’s jaw slackened. “Really, Shiloh?”

“Her name.”

A deep frown. “Same as it used to be.
Anastasia.” He shook his head. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Did she have red hair?”

“Nooo…” A hint of a question. My brother’s
frown now carved canyons in his forehead.

“Can I see a picture?”

George laid his cup on the end table,
spilling some of the tea onto the antique walnut under the doily.
“They’re all still there. We haven’t moved them.” He pointed to a
row of photo albums on the bottom shelf of a nearby bookcase.

“Can I turn on the light?”

George reached over and flipped the switch on
the reading lamp before I’d finished standing up. My face turned
away, I shuffled over and picked up several of the dusty volumes in
my arms, bringing them back to my chair.

I flipped the pages one by one. Yellowed
photo albums of sunny days long since forgotten. Connie with
pigtails. Kris with braces. George without his mustache. Grandpa
Alexander, working in the barn with Blair. And—I swallowed
hard—John, golden locks teasing his sculpted shoulders, sitting
atop his red Moto Guzzi.

What I didn’t see among all of our photos
were views of my mother or my father. Even in the snapshots with
Billy and Andi in diapers, frolicking under a volcanic
sprinkler.

I looked through every single album, each
book groaning and coughing dust, as I opened it to search for
visions that weren’t there.

“Maybe you’d better go lie down, Shiloh,”
Connie said from the doorway. Her expression mirrored George’s
concern.

“Dammit!” I cried, throwing down the album in
my hand. “Where are they?”

“You’ve been through a lot and—“

“Where are they?” I clenched my fists to stop
the shaking.

“Could be a fever.” Connie reached out her
hand to feel my forehead.

I shoved it away. “I am not sick! Just show
me one picture, one, of my parents.”

George and Connie looked at each other, the
worry and sadness clear in their eyes. George sighed and picked up
the volume with the pictures of my younger sibs playing outdoors.
He opened the album to the page where Billy had climbed up onto a
small boulder and was preparing to jump. “Here, Shiloh. Can’t you
see?”

His finger rested a few inches to the right
of Billy. I stared at the photo, unblinking, for as long as I was
able. Until the shivering washed over me and I dropped to the
carpet by their feet. How could I tell George and Connie that there
was no one there at all.

Chapter 30

Merely Players

I don’t remember much about the next two
days. Connie said I was the picture of teeth-gnashing delirium
until the fever broke.

That was as good an explanation as I would be
able to come up with, so I played along. No point in rattling their
padded cages with my reality. Once again, it was going to be up to
me to track down the truth--alone.